


hate me in ways hard to swallow

by wastedhotel



Category: One Direction
Genre: A Lot of Depression, Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholics Anonymous, Angst, Break Up, Happy Ending, I think that’s it, M/M, Make Up, No Smut, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, i cried writing this i hope u cry reading it, this is gonna break your heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 19:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastedhotel/pseuds/wastedhotel
Summary: harry leaves and louis drinks.





	hate me in ways hard to swallow

**Author's Note:**

> hi uh this is my first fic that i’ve written in like years and it’s just a short little one shot but uh i’m kinda proud of it and i got impatient at the ending and wanted them back together so i rushed it a bit but yeah i’m sorry if this makes you cry!!!!! have a good day i hope this fic doesn’t ruin it

It’s been 76 days. It’s been 76 days since Harry left and Louis hasn’t been sober for a single second of it. Two months and 15 days and Louis can’t seem to put the bottle down.

He remembers the last words they shared. He remembers the last thing Harry said to him. “I hate you,” he said. “I hate you because I gave my everything to you. I hate you because no matter how much I gave you, you could never just put down the _fucking_ bottle, could you Louis?” The door echoed after him for what seemed like hours.

Sometimes when Louis is feeling particularly fucked up, he can see green eyes in the reflection of the bottle. You see, Louis knows he has a problem. A problem that made the love of his life walk out the door. But maybe Harry wasn’t the love of his life; maybe it was alcohol. Vanilla Grey Goose would never leave him.

6 days and 13 hours after Harry walked out the door, taking Louis’ favorite shirt with him, Zayn had convinced Louis to go to the meetings. He went to one meeting and never went back. He couldn’t stand to see the looks on their faces, because they _knew_. They knew how pathetic Louis was.

He was left behind and though you’d think the one thing that tore them apart, he’d never touch again. But if only it was that simple.

“The love of my life left me six days ago,” Louis muttered into the microphone connected to the podium. “Since then, I haven’t been sober.” He couldn’t believe he was saying this out loud to a bunch of strangers. “I met him when I was 18. He was 16 at the time, barely old enough to know what kind of imprint his messy hair had left on my life. As we got older, things fell into place. We were the ones you’d never see apart. Attached at the hip. We were the cliche story; best friends to star-crossed lovers, the whole bit. I remember the day we told our friends we were together. I remember my younger sister, Lottie, breathing a sigh of relief and muttering out the words, fucking finally.” He paused to let out a shaky breath. “If I’d known that in twelve years I’d be standing in front of this dirty podium telling my sob story to a bunch of fucking strangers, I would have stayed far away. I doubt I’d be able to, though. Who could deny the sun of it’s wishes?”

On one excruciatingly hard night, Louis had put the bottle to his lips and the barrel of his great uncle’s pistol to his head. He cried, and he weaped, and he drank, but no matter how painful, he just couldn’t seem to pull the trigger. Regardless of the pain Harry had put him through, he knew he loved Louis. And he knew that would shatter him. “Maybe I should do it,” he whispered to himself. “Maybe I should just fucking do it. This is the only way they’ll ever understand the pain I’m in. I should just do it.” Louis pulled the muzzle away from his temple and released the pistol from his grip, allowing it to slip to the hardwood floor in a loud clatter. _Pussy_ , he said to himself.

Louis went to bed that night with shaking hands and a broken heart that only a certain curly haired lad could fix.

The next morning, Louis woke up to a pounding headache. He didn’t bother brushing his teeth. What he did do though, was chase down some Advil with his favorite bottle of vodka, and pick up his phone to dial the landline only feet away.

The line rang and rang, eight times to be exact, before the answering machine began to roll. _Hiya!_ Even through the phone, Harry’s voice was so joyous and vibrant. Louis cringed. _I’m guessing you’ve called to tell us some important news or to tell us how much you miss us! We’re a bit busy, though, doing whatever Boo Bear and Hazza do. Anyways, leave a message and maybe we’ll give ‘ya a call back if you’re lucky! Say bye, Lou!_ You could hear a distant, _Bye!_ , in the background, followed by two obnoxious giggles.

Louis did this on an average of 24 times a day. It was the only time he heard his voice anymore. He clicked off his phone and picked the bottle back up, taking another pull from it before waltzing to the bathroom.

As the bathtub filled, Louis stared at himself in the mirror. He was all dark circles and messy hair and, being someone who constantly cares about their appearance, Louis was a bit shocked to find that he couldn’t find an ounce of himself to care. There was no one to impress anyway.

Four and a half hours later, Zayn had found Louis submerged deep in the now cold water, fully clothed with a bottle of Rosé in hand, and an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor. “Jesus,” he muttered. He stuck his hand in the frigid water, pulling the plug to drain it. “You’ve got to get it together, mate. Harry wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“What does he care? He’s the one that left,” Louis had mumbled into his soggy pajama shirt. Well, Harry’s soggy pajama shirt.

“He called me half an hour ago, he wants to talk to you.”

“What?” Louis said, incredulously. “Yeah, he said to call him when you get the chance.”

“‘Get the chance?’ What the fuck does he mean ‘get the chance?’ I haven’t left the flat in two bloody weeks! Last time I left, I went to Tesco’s and bought £600 worth of booze!”

“ _This is why he left, Lou!_ You’ve _got_ to get a grip, mate!” Zayn shouted at him, voice echoing off the walls. “Now go get some dry clothes on and call the bloody twat!”

Forty five minutes later, Louis found himself on the couch, his shattered phone clutched in shaky hands. He pressed the call button, and brought it to his ear.

“Louis,” His voice was as deep as ever. “I didn’t think you were going to call,”

“Yeah, well, here I am,” Louis chuckled nervously. “Is there a reason you wanted me to call?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice, if I’m honest. How’ve you been, Lou?”

The first tear fell. “Don’t call me that. Please don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Even through the phone, Louis could hear his nerves. He knew every tone of voice Harry had.

“I’m guessing you were calling to see if we could meet to sign divorce papers?” Louis asked, shaking his head and letting the tears fall freely.

“No, God, no, Lou,” Harry let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I wanted to see if I could come home?”

“Come home?”

“Yeah. I miss you,” Louis couldn’t believe his ears.

“Just like that? You’re just going to come home and act like nothing ever happened?”

“Of course not, but I don’t trust you to be alone, and I know Liam wouldn’t want Zayn staying with you. I want to keep an eye on you,” Zayn has come to stay over every other night, which was starting to cause problems between his and Liam’s marriage. Louis didn’t have a problem, he was the problem.

“Harry, you don’t have to do that, I’m fine,” His voice cracked mid-sentence.

“I know you’re not. Zayn told me that you haven’t stopped drinking since the night I left.” Harry stated as a matter of fact.

“I miss you, God, I miss you,” Louis began to sob quietly into the phone, not being able to hold on any longer. “I miss you and I’m sorry. I’ll stop drinking, I’ll go to the meetings, just please come home.”

“Alright, baby. I’m coming home. Unlock the door and get in bed, I’ll be there in an hour.”

“I love you, Hazza. I love you so much, I’m so sorry,”

“I love you, too, Lou. I’m coming home.”


End file.
